


But You Won't See Me

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Missing Persons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26465767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Freddie, Brian and John feel they are missing something - or someone.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	But You Won't See Me

John programmed the drum machine and had the nagging feeling he was getting increasingly often these days that something was missing. He stood up and smiled at Brian and Freddie. “Let’s try that.”

As they played Brian found himself looking at the drum machine almost as if he was expecting something else to be there. He shook his head. He really needed to get more sleep.

Freddie suggested going for a drink after their practice session ended and started to turn around as if he was about to include someone else. But of course only the three of them were in the room. 

*

There was a table for three in the bar, John noticed, yet they had automatically sat at the table for four. Of course it was nice to have more space and they had probably subconsciously realised that. Bigger was always better, he thought with a grin. He still had that sensation that he had forgotten something.

Brian found himself starting to order four cocktails and halted in confusion. He amended his order and laughed off the teasing of the other two about the maths teacher who couldn’t count. He really must try to do something about his sleep pattern.

As they piled into a taxi at the end of the evening Freddie looked around before realising they were all in the vehicle and pulling the door closed with a bang. For a moment he had the strangest feeling that they should have been waiting for someone else.

*

The following morning John found himself taking four mugs from the cupboard at breakfast time. He frowned as he replaced the surplus mug – it had a photo of sunflower on it and he had the oddest feeling it was someone’s favourite mug but his favourite mug was plain white, Brian’s had the periodic table on it and Freddie’s had a stylised line drawing of a cat on a bright pink background. The sunflower mug was for guests. He had that nagging feeling of something missing again.

Brian found himself putting more bread in the toaster before he realised that he had made toast for everyone present. He laughed softly to himself as he slipped the slices of bread back into their wrapper and tucked the loaf into the bread bin. It was almost as if he had thought there was another person in the room. He had the strangest feeling there should be, almost as if someone was absent but shook his head, running one hand through his curls. He really must try to get more sleep. 

Freddie halted, about to drop another tea-bag into the tea-pot. One for him, one for Brian, one for John and one for the pot but he had another fifth tea-bag in his hand. One for the invisible man, he thought as he placed the surplus tea-bag back into the tin. The tin had a picture of a sandy beach on it and said Cornwall on the side. There was a place that grew tea in Cornwall, Freddie thought, or was it Devon? Where had he heard that? Had someone told him? He had the sense of something on the tip of his tongue – something he was just about to remember – but then the moment passed and whatever it was remained lost. 

*

The chest of drawers had four drawers and they had each taken one so of course there was one empty drawer. Yet for some reason John had expected the fourth barren drawer to spill forth a chaotic jumble of clothes when he had opened it.

Brian could no longer recall why the three of them had taken an apartment that slept four. They had perhaps liked the generously sized room that held four beds and four desks. His eye was drawn to the empty desk on the other side of the room. It felt wrong, as if the desk should have crumpled paper scattered over it and unstable heaps of books wobbling on the surface. He shook his head, selected the book he had come for and left again. 

Freddie picked a scarf from the selection draped over the chair in the corner. He glanced at the empty chair beside the empty fourth bed and had the strange feeling that at some point that chair had also held a choice of scarves and belts and ties and the bed had been squashed together with the other beds so they could all sleep entwined. But of course there was no fourth person to sleep with. It occurred to him that they never flung their possessions on the spare bed or the spare chair or the spare desk and he wondered why. Then he heard Brian calling for him and hurried out of the room. 

*

John halted, realising he was outside a college building he had no lectures in. He wondered why he had wandered this way. Something at the back of his mind whispered that he had come to meet someone and walk them home but that was ridiculous, of course, he had not made any such arrangements and he didn’t think he knew anyone who had classes in this building. Annoyed with himself he turned and walked back the way he had come. 

Brian started to say they could not have a band rehearsal on Tuesday afternoon as it would conflict with...someone’s schedule. Not his schedule. Brian had memorised all of their schedules and Tuesday afternoon was clear for all three of them. He ran a hand through his curls. Really, he had to get more sleep. 

Freddie treated himself to a coffee every Friday afternoon. The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled as he entered, the bell jangling over the door. “Are you on your own today, then?” she asked. Freddie nodded and then wondered what she meant. He was always alone when he came here. Wasn’t he?

*

The pub was crowded, the crowd was jovial. John watched the band playing before them. They had a drummer and John experienced that feeling of missing something again. Should they get a drummer? They were fine as they were, though, weren’t they?

Brian strode onto the stage looking forward to playing in front of an audience. He had a good feeling about tonight’s performance. He turned slightly smiling and realised he was smiling at the wall. He shrugged – he’d thought there was someone behind him that was all. 

Freddie arched his back, posing for his public. He swung around to catch the reaction of... Well, there was no one there. There was no one missing. So why did he have the feeling someone was?

*

“You guys were great!” one of the men at the bar told them enthusiastically as they fought their way through the crowd to get drinks.

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie smiled.

“What happened to your drummer, though?” the man wondered. He winked at Freddie, “He was cute, y’ know?”

John and Brian and Freddie looked at each other. “Roger,” they said in unison.

*

“Is collective amnesia a thing?” Freddie wondered. He suspected it was the sort of thing Roger would know.

“Even if it is why would we collectively forget Roger?” John asked.

“I knew there was something wrong,” Brian muttered. “What’s your last memory of him?”

“You make it sound like he’s...” Freddie gulped. 

“You know what Bri means,” John said gently, “when did we last see him?”

They looked blankly at each other. 

*

“Roger?” Clare echoed, as if she had never heard of Roger. Freddie felt a stab of fear. Had everyone forgotten Roger? “He came round last week. Or was it the week before? Tell him the shelves he put up for me have now all fallen down. Although I suppose I should have known better than to ask him to do that.” She paused. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

“Nothing at all, dear,” Freddie lied, “Roggie’s just been a bit quiet lately, that’s all, and I wondered if he had said anything to you.” 

There was silence as she considered this. “He was quite upset about the row you’d had,” she said slowly, “He said you were gonna replace him with a drum machine.” She laughed. “I told him he was being silly.”

Freddie thought he might vomit. “Ah,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, “I expect that’s what’s bothering him. I’ll have a word. Thank you.” 

He returned to the others and explained what Clare had said. John and Brian looked as bewildered as he felt. “I have no memory of that at all,” John said after a while. Brian and Freddie agreed that they did not recall this either.

“If he left then why don’t we remember that?” Brian muttered. “Why have we forgotten everything relating to his departure?” 

“And where has he gone?” John asked, “He’s clearly not with Clare.” He thought about how he had gone to meet Roger to walk him home after classes. “I don’t think he’d have gone to his mum – he still has classes here.” 

“You don’t think,” Brian sighed and shook his head.

“What?” Freddie demanded. “Say it, dear, no matter how silly it sounds.” 

“You don’t think we’ve...done something to him...and we’ve blocked it out?” Brian gulped. 

“You think we’ve murdered him?” Freddie shrieked. “I would never!”

“None of us would!” John yelled. He glanced at Brian. “That would actually explain things though.” 

“I refuse to believe it!” Freddie cried. “Clare said we’d had a row – something about replacing Rog with a drum machine – which must have been at band practice. Perhaps looking at the dates of the most recent practice times will help?”

They were sitting round the kitchen table and Brian reached over to pluck the calendar off the wall. He set it on the table and they all stared at it. Freddie placed his finger on the square that had ‘R – optician – 2.30’ scrawled across it. “He keeps slipping out of my mind,” Freddie admitted. “I’m terrified we’ll forget him again.” 

They all nodded. John cleared his throat. “So,” he said slightly shakily, “last week we had band practice on Monday and Wednesday. Friday has an entry but it seems to have been scored out. Do either of you remember why?”

Freddie and Brian shook their heads. “Can you remember what songs we played?” Brian asked, looking between them with a desperate expression on his face. He looked dejected as they both shook their heads.

“Did we have any songs we’d discussed using a drum machine on?” Freddie wondered, searching his memory and coming up blank.

“Why would we use a drum machine when we have Rog?” Brian queried. “None of this makes any sense. And if Rog did storm out then how did he manage to remove every single trace of his presence without us noticing? That would take more than one trip.”

They nodded glumly, agreeing with Brian. “We must be missing something,” Freddie sighed.

They were missing Roger, of course. It was like almost completing a jigsaw puzzle and finding a piece frustratingly absent or assembling a piece of furniture to discover one missing screw.

*

The following morning Roger seemed unreal again. Freddie hadn’t quite forgotten him but he felt that Roger was slipping away. John and Brian were experiencing the same thing and John looked out a photograph of the four of them together and pinned it to the fridge door with a strawberry shaped magnet to remind them they were incomplete. 

“Should we call the police?” Brian asked.

“And say what?” Freddie sighed, “Good day, officer, we don’t know when our friend went missing and for all we know he’s staying with another friend and perfectly safe but we think there’s something weird about his disappearance because we can barely remember him now. Could you investigate us, please, in case we’ve murdered him and now have collective amnesia about the whole nasty business?”

“If we had murdered him,” John said thoughtfully, “how do you think we would have done it?” 

“We have not murdered him,” Freddie snapped. 

“If we had,” Brian said, sipping coffee and sliding onto the seat opposite John, “disposing of the body would be the biggest problem.”

“We have the van,” John pointed out, “so we could transport the body in that. If we killed him here then we’d have to wait until we were fairly sure we wouldn’t meet any of the neighbours when we were carrying the body to the van. If we killed him at the rehearsal hall then it would be much easier to get the body to the van.” 

“Stop talking about killing Roger,” Freddie seethed. 

“It might jog our memories,” John explained. 

“Only if we actually killed him,” Freddie pointed out, slightly hysterically, “which we didn’t.” 

“You don’t know that,” Brian noted. “We’d like to think we’re not capable of murder but, to be fair, Roger would try the patience of a saint.” 

“Yes,” Freddie agreed, “and just think about all the things Roger has done and all the times we haven’t killed him. Why would we do that now following a row that seems to have been about us doing something hurtful to him?” 

They considered this in silence. “Okay,” John nodded, “maybe we haven’t murdered him. What other event would be so traumatic we would all block it from our minds?” 

*

In the absence of both Roger and any ideas about what to do they continued living their lives as normal. Freddie called Roger’s mother and feigned confusion about believing Roger had said he was visiting her at the weekend. None of them were surprised to find out that Roger was not with her. He was not staying with any of the friends they had contacted either.

“Should we call the police now?” Brian asked again, a week after they had realised Roger had once existed. “We could legitimately say we thought he’d gone to visit a friend but he has never re-appeared and no one seems to have seen him.”

“We could,” John agreed, “but how do we explain the complete absence of his possessions? It is as if he never existed. It’s like he has completely vanished.” 

*

There was a woman with a basket outside the rehearsal hall selling lucky white heather. Freddie thought she’d been there before. He went over to her, fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans.

She smiled at him and offered him a sprig of heather. “No charge,” she told him. A dreamy look crossed her face. “To reverse the consequences of hurtful words you must speak words of love.”

*

“What the fuck does that mean?” John snorted. 

“I don’t know, dear, but I’ve a feeling it’s important. I think she has been here before.” Freddie sighed. “She said we must speak words of love,” he said slowly.

“Just random words,” Brian puzzled. “Love, joy...um...happiness?” 

“If we spoke hurtful words to Roger then perhaps we should speak words of love about him?” Freddie suggested. 

John frowned. “It would help if we knew what we had said to Roger to make him vanish,” he pointed out. 

“Yes, well, we don’t,” Brian snapped, “and Freddie’s idea makes sense.” He ran both hands through his hair. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

John looked uncertain. “So, we just say how much we love Rog?” he asked. 

Freddie nodded. “Yes,” he said, “let’s try that.” 

*

They sat in a circle on the dusty floor. Freddie cleared his throat. “Um-One of the things I love most about Roger is how cheerful he is and how encouraging he is. He’s a very positive person.”

“Sometimes he annoys the hell out of me,” Brian muttered, “but then he’ll give me a hug or say something funny and he makes it impossible to stay annoyed with him.” He considered this. “And that can actually be quite annoying too.”

“I’m not sure you’re quite getting the hang of this, Brimi, dear,” Freddie sighed. 

“Well, it’s weird,” Brian grumbled, “sitting saying I love how tactile Roger is and how kind and generous he is.”

“That’s better,” Freddie approved. “John, dear?”

John sighed. “Roger was so sweet to me when I first joined the band and,” he blushed, “when you welcomed me into your relationship. And he is the perfect drummer for me to play with. He has such a great sense of timing and rhythm and I feel like he’s my musical soul-mate. He really listens when someone talks to him – at least he does if they are telling him something important. And yes he can be infuriating but...” his voice cracked, “...I really miss him.”

They all flinched as the drum machine exploded.

*

They scrambled to their feet and looked at the drum machine which was not so much exploding – they now realised – as unfolding. Arms and legs emerged from it and a box like head popped out of the top. “You would seek to banish me?” the machine boomed – its voice a low electronic rumble, its lights flashing red like eyes emitting a warning glare. 

“Yes,” John said slowly, “we’d like Roger back, please, and if that means banishing you then so be it.” 

The machine clanked towards them menacingly. “I am the best drummer,” it informed them.

Brian shook his head. “Our friend is the best drummer.” 

“You are wrong,” the machine screeched in a high-pitched whine. 

“No, dear, you are wrong,” Freddie told it, “We would rather have Roger than you.”

There was a shriek of feedback that made them all cover their ears then a crash like cymbals falling to the floor. The drum machine morphed back into its usual drum machine shape and silence fell. 

*

They had abandoned the rehearsal hall after that. The woman selling the lucky white heather had gone. 

Roger was still absent. 

“What the hell do you think that was?” Brian asked shakily after a while as they walked home. 

John shrugged then halted suddenly. “It must mean we were on the right lines though, don’t you think? We said what we loved about Roger and then the drum machine...spoke...”

Freddie nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, “and presumably it means that whatever happened to Roger was because...Well...We must have been unkind to him, I think.” He sighed heavily. 

“Is this some kind of magic?” Brian wondered. “It seems absurd to say that but we all saw the drum machine kind of turn into a person, didn’t we?”

He sounded worried. Freddie patted his arm reassuringly. “Yes, Brimi, we all saw that. There is clearly some kind of uncommon thing happening here – it explains why Roger has vanished so completely and why we have forgotten about him.” 

“I thought he might come back,” John said, his voice wobbling.

They all sighed and continued walking. 

*

There was a glimmer of light shining out from under the door when they arrived back at their apartment. They all exchanged glances. John fumbled his key into the lock and shoved the door open, already shouting Roger’s name.

Roger appeared in the hallway and they were all calling his name at once, laughing, crying and hugging him – you’re here – you’re safe – it’s so good to see you – we were so worried about you – you’re back – are you okay?

Freddie held Roger at arm’s length. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” When Roger shook his head he pulled Roger back into a hug. “I am so happy to see you, my darling. We’re so sorry we drove you away.”

John sniffed. “I’ll put the kettle on,” he muttered, heading for the kitchen.

Brian tousled Roger’s hair. “Come on through and have tea. I think there are some scones too.”

*

They sat around the kitchen table, the proper number once more. Roger sipped tea out of the mug with a photo of a sunflower on it and nibbled a scone. He explained that his life had carried on as normal but he had been alone in the flat which he had known was wrong. “I thought I saw you once, Deaks, outside of college but I don’t think you could see me,” he said sadly. “Sometimes you were hazy images here – like you were almost with me but we just couldn’t connect.”

Roger claimed to be unable to remember a fight either but Freddie was not entirely sure he believed him. He looked sad. 

“We’ll make it up to you,” Brian promised him fiercely, “even although we don’t know exactly what it is we are making up for.”

“You’re here,” Roger said, sipping his tea, “that’s all that matters. I was lonely without you all,” he confessed. 

The others looked awkward and Roger suddenly laughed. “Oh, I know you didn’t miss me,” he said, “You didn’t even remember me! But I’m glad I’m back with you.”

“We missed you very much once we realised you were gone,” Freddie cried in distress. 

Brian and John nodded their agreement. 

*

They discovered that Roger’s possessions had reappeared in the bedroom. His clothes were spilling untidily out of his not quite closed drawer. He had scarves and ties draped over a chair. His desk was a mess of crumpled bits of paper and unstable piles of books. His bed was squashed against theirs. 

Normally the mess would have annoyed Brian but he found he was delighted to have Roger’s presence so visibly declared. He seized Roger and kissed him. “I am so glad to have you home,” he said as they parted. 

John wondered again how they could have blocked Roger from their minds when he was usually so present in their lives. He pulled Roger into a tight hug. “I don’t ever want to be parted from you again,” he told him in a fierce whisper. 

Freddie looked around the room which was now back as it should be – belonging to the four of them – their beds together – their possessions owning the space – their souls as entwined as their bodies would be later. They were home and they were all together and all was well with the world. He stroked Roger’s hair, looking into his eyes. “You belong with us,” he informed him, “Your place, your home, is with us.” 

“It’s good to be home,” Roger agreed.


End file.
